Major Arcana: The Tower
by DarkAngelLillith
Summary: Sequel to Second Chances. Greagoir retires to stay in Denerim and a templar gets promoted to Knight Commander and transferred away from the Tower. This templar wants answers.
1. Chapter 1: Gossip

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Age: Origins.

**Warning: **Goes after Second Chances. You might want to read that one before reading this one.

**A/N:** Because I found the gossiping people amusing and the old lady in Denerim's chantry hilarious. Besides, everyone wants the mages out of the tower and no one thinks that the templars are pretty much stuck there too unless they're going hunting apostates. I felt it was my obligation to take one out.

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**Gossip**

Greagoir's retirement caused uproar in the Circle Tower. The Circle had yet to be rebuilt, and though he vowed to assist the new Knight Commander, he would not leave Denerim. The rumors of why such a pious and loyal man would leave so suddenly spread like wildfire. Newly appointed Knight Commander Cullen refused to believe any of them. Instead, he packed everything as soon as possible and vowed that, as soon as the Tower's new Knight Commander arrived; he would be on his way to his new post in Denerim.

While the wait felt too long for his liking, looking at Denerim's chantry made him feel like it hadn't been long enough. He'd spent most of his life in the Tower. He was used to the silence, the darkness, the closed spaces and its strict set of rules. The sheer amount of sound, light and space gave him a headache.

"I shall not be left to waffle the drifting boats of the Fade; for there is no darkness, nor deaf either, in the Maker's Light. And nothing that He has wrong shall be lost."

The words of the chantry sister echoed around the market and Cullen's contemplation went to a sudden halt. His head turned to look at an old woman surrounded by two or three laughing citizens. Besides her stood another sister trying, and failing, to mask her frustration.

"It's wander not waffle. And it's roads, not boats," her chastising voice reached him, " For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light. And it's wrought not wrong."

He shouldn't be standing here watching them. He had better things to do, like get a hot meal and a bath.

"Will you stop correcting me! I was singing the chant when you were but a baby. I know what I'm saying."

The young templar could feel his headache increasing. If this is what he had to look forward to, he'd rather stay in the Tower with those Maker cursed mages. He sighed, praying to the Maker for fortitude and strength, finally daring to cross the chantry's doors without even bothering to look at the two templars standing guard at its doors. Once inside, he looked around the place that would become his new home feeling lost.

"Did you hear? The King's marrying the Hero of Ferelden in a fortnight."

Two sisters gossiped inside the chantry and Cullen resisted the urge to roll his eyes. After endless years of hearing the soft whispers of mages talking, the women's voices felt too loud for him.

"Isn't she an elf?"

"From our own alienage, if the rumors are true."

And if he remembered correctly, the same elf found him almost at the top of the Tower. She'd been the one to end his torment and kill all those abominations and blood mages.

"She's a Grey Warden now. Guess that's what they have in common. Though I didn't think they could marry."

Wasn't that the way all good stories ended? As far as Cullen knew, a story wasn't worth it if the hero didn't get the woman. Or, in this case, the heroine gets the guy. With the way the other Grey Warden had followed her around, he had a pretty good idea who truly wore the pants in that relationship.

"At least they are willing to get married. My friend, the seamstress, told me she was hired by the king to make her several outfits for a woman with child."

"You don't say!"

"I swear, by the Maker, that's what she told me."

By now, Cullen was getting annoyed. Didn't these women have anything else to do? For that matter, why wasn't anyone around to help him? Where were his templars when he needed them? Probably busy gossiping around too.

"What I wouldn't give to work in the palace now! Have you heard about the templar and the mage?"

"Dearest Andraste! Don't tell me the poor boy got entangled with one of the cursed! Is that why they sent him away?"

Cullen suppressed a snort at the sister's words. Any templar seduced or brainwashed by a mage would be sent as far away from temptation as possible. If Knight Commander Tavish had been discovered, or was even suspected, to be under the influence of a mage, then he would've been sent as far away from temptation as possible. The Circle Tower, even with its new shortage of mages would be the last place to send him.

"I'm not talking about Tavish. I'm talking about the templar from the Tower. Used to be their Knight Commander, if the chantry priestess at the palace is not mistaken."

Now this truly got his attention. They were talking about Greagoir. Part of him wanted to approach them and ask all they knew. The other part wanted to do nothing with gossip. The last part also wanted him to stop standing like an idiot and just settle in the first empty room he encountered before going in search of food. He didn't move from his place, years upon years of just standing silent in the Tower giving him plenty of experience in that area.

"What did she tell you?"

"She says he retired to stay with that mage. You know, the new advisor to the king. I think her name's Wynne."

Cullen's eyes grew wide at her words and a surprised gasp left his lips, finally gaining the women's attention.

"Oh, welcome. I apologize if we made you wait. Are you Knight Commander Cullen by any chance?" one of the sisters said and Cullen let himself be guided around the chantry and to the templar's chambers.

His stomach rumbled. His body ached. His clothes begged to be changed. But instead of getting food, or bathing or sleeping; as soon as he was alone in his new room, Cullen went to his knees and began to pray. He prayed for guidance. He prayed that what he'd come to believe after the abominations attacked was wrong. And he prayed to have the strength to slay both Wynne and Greagoir if it was needed.

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_A/N: _I hope no one hates me for Cullen, but he ended up hating all mages in my game. I may do something about it or I may not. Don't hold your breath on it, though.

Why the title? Simple: Tarot=magic, Tower=Circle Tower and_ The Tower: sudden change - going through a crisis - letting everything go - having a revelation - chaos_


	2. Chapter2:Of Bosoms,Assassins and Dwarves

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Age nor the poem Zevran recites.

**A/N:** I had to write Zevran sometime. I hope I did him justice. _Some of the dialogues are from the game._

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**Of Bosoms, Assassins and Dwarves**

It was night time when Zevran arrived. They'd been in the gardens when the elf had seemed to appear out of the shadows, surprising the soldiers standing guard and Greagoir. The King, the Warden and her group didn't react at all at his appearance. Leliana continued entertaining everyone with a ballad from Orlais. Wynne kept on reading a book Greagoir had gifted her. The King and Leilani continued playing fetch with her mabari. Sten was the only one that tensed at his arrival, but the qunari dismissed him as soon as he realized who it was. Greagoir decided to do as the others, and went back to polishing his shield. Zevran didn't seem to care and, in a matter of seconds, it looked as if the elf had been with them all along. Greagoir had almost forgotten the elf was there at all, until his heavily accented voice reminded him.

"My darling Wynne," the elf said and Greagoir was surprised to see that everyone stopped what they were doing to watch what he was going to say. Even the qunari seemed interested in whatever the elf was going to say.

For his part, Greagoir didn't like the way he addressed Wynne, but what he really detested was the way he was staring at her. It was as if he could look straight through her robes.

"I am not your 'darling' Zevran," Wynne answered, eyes riveted on her book. Her actions seemed forced but the elf seemed completely oblivious to it.

"I have a poem for you, my beautiful Wynne."

She sighed heavily, closing the book and looking at him with her most stern face. Greagoir was reminded of that one time one her apprentices accidentally set fire to the dinner table.

"I am not your anything, Zevran. And you didn't have to bother. _Really…"_

The elf smiled, eyes moving slowly up and down her body and making Greagoir wish he hadn't left his sword in his quarters.

"I would in that sweet bosom be. O sweet it is and fair it is! Where no rude wind might visit me because of sad austerities. I would in that sweet bosom be."

Alistair was the first to chuckle, though he tried to hide it. The Grey Warden was hiding her face in her hands, shoulders shaking in amusement. Leliana was rolling her eyes, though Greagoir knew she wasn't laughing _only_ because she was a better actress. Wynne looked murderous though. The air around her turned hot and Greagoir remembered that, while specializing as a healer, Wynne had an affinity for fire spells. Training made him tense up, but the others around him seemed more amused by the increase in temperature than worried.

"Could you please stop talking about my bosom?" Wynne enunciated slowly. The frost in her voice contrasting with the hot aura that surrounded her.

The elf gave her an exaggerated wounded look, "Didn't you like the poem? It is a marvelous bosom. I have seen women half your age who have not held up half so well. It deserves to be immortalized in a poem. Perhaps it is a magical bosom?"

Alistair couldn't hold his laughter anymore. There was a very unlady-like snort beside him before the Warden gave up trying to hide her laughter.

"We are not having this conversation," Wynne said, calmly opening her book and continuing reading.

She might've fooled them, except the air around them was still crackling with energy and the faint odor of smoke. Still, no one seemed worried and Greagoir had to admit that, if it were Leliana or the Warden having this conversation he'd be laughing too. Maybe he should be doing something, but he was still getting used to not be standing around for hours on end. Being Knight Commander didn't lessen his responsibilities, but added to them. While it's been a while since he stood still guarding a room full of mages, he stood still alongside a chosen templar recruit in each and every Harrowing. He was more used to watch others around him than interacting and maybe he was too old to learn something different.

"Alas, I have been rejected again. I feel like I might cry. May I lay my head in your bosom?"

Greagoir stood up, ready to take on the elf with his bare hands if he dared touch Wynne. Everyone's attention seemed to shift from amusement to tension.

Wynne only stood up, looking very much like a noble, and giving Zevran a scathing look said, "I am going to walk away now. Calmly. This is to save you the pain of having your brain forcibly removed through your ears."

She walked past him and, like they'd been doing for years, Greagoir quickly followed one step behind her. Everyone was quiet and even Zevran looked contrite now that she was leaving. He might have even apologized to the old mage, but before Wynne could finally leave the garden, Oghren arrived.

The dwarf smelled like a brewery and he swayed slightly when he walked. He squinted his eyes at Wynne before shouting at the top of his lungs and pointing at her, "YOU!"

"Listen, dwarf. I am not interested in your innuendos, your propositions or your bodily emanations."

Oghren looked confused, bleary eyes squinting, "But…"

"Quiet!"

"Eh, fine," Oghren said, shrugging his shoulders and moving out of the way as Wynne stalked out of the room with Greagoir in tow.

There was silence for a few minutes, until Oghren belched loudly and said, "And here I came to tell her there was a templar looking for her and the old man."

The sight of the group simultaneously bolting out of the gardens and into the palace made the approaching golem stare. She glanced at the sky suspiciously. The only way she'd run that fast were if birds were approaching. Seeing the sky clear, the golem shrugged and joined the only one that had not left the garden. Sten didn't even glance at her, deciding to do his nightly meditation in the garden now that it was quiet and empty.


End file.
